An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

conscience know what is right  and what is wrong  it keeps you  on the straight  and narrow  What if the borders between the two suddenly begin to blur together? what if you can't  tell the difference  or what if you  don't even care?  It will never  raise its voice  and bother you then. 

The spider  weaves its web it chooses where and decides when and uses its materials  it relies on instinct  does not think  it tries again and again  to create a masterpiece wind tears it apart the morning dew makes it glisten  every sunrise and it endures the spider keeps itself fed  and show its beauty  it is truly an artist

how does loving a person  actually feel?  the bond  that stretches  between two people  your heart  still races  whenever your eyes meet  the warmth  that remains even if they're not present the connection that endures all through the long years  the harmony  of two souls  that are meant for each other

Every day  we avoid  each other's eyes  because the truth  is too difficult  to say aloud:  You've become  my bad habit  my comfortable  buffer against  a rather harsh  reality  If I don't think too hard I don't have to confront this inevitable truth If we speak  the illusion  will shatter  and the reality  is too awful  to contemplate

We picked up  the sofa  abandoned  at the side of the curb.  The tired cushions  had seen  much better days  the ruffle flat  like a wilted flower  My sewing machine  whirs for hours  gives it new life  new upholstery  to brighten our old room What is thrown at the side of the curb has been transformed given new life and new purpose

One little acorn  centuries ago  grows into  a majestic  oak  tree  It has  seen kings  come and go  wars waged  and lost  generations  married under  its sturdy trunk  and overreaching  branches  beliefs change pieces of it as souvenirs now its roots will be saved What more  will it see  if it survives  the hubris  of modern man?